


Always Someone Looking Out For You

by smutmuffin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutmuffin/pseuds/smutmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their little daughter has a nightmare, John tells her a bedtime story to soothe her back to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Someone Looking Out For You

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks, as always, go to my wonderful beta Cumbermyspock, who wrangles my writing into readable fic. Thank you!

It had been a long and eventful day and John and Sherlock were sitting on the sofa in the living room of 221B. John, trying to finish up a blog entry about their latest case, was typing away at his usual slow rate but was too tired to really focus. Sherlock lay beside him, his head cushioned on the armrest of the sofa and his toes tucked underneath his husband’s legs. He kept dozing off but refused to go to bed alone. John wasn’t ready to join him just yet so he was content to lie there, occasionally wiggling his toes to remind John he was waiting. It wasn’t even that late, but todays events had really taken it out of them. By unspoken agreement, Lestrade didn’t give them the really dangerous cases anymore, but there was still a lot of running about and more than enough excitement.

“Papa! Papa!” Alexandra’s voice, scared and anxious, called down from the upstairs bedroom. John was on his feet and halfway up the stairs before he knew it. Within seconds he pushed open the bedroom door, scanning the room for dangers out of old habit but nothing seemed amiss. Their daughter sat in the centre of her bed, tangled in half-kicked off sheets, tears streaming down her little face. John sat carefully on the edge of her bed and held out his arms. Alexandra untangled herself and scrambled into his embrace.

“Hey now, sweet pea! What happened?” John asked, his voice soothing and gentle. Holding her close, he stroked her blonde hair lovingly. A brief moment later, she was already beginning to calm down.

“Papa! I had a bad dream!” she whispered, sniffling and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her blue pyjamas. John reached over to the nightstand, got a tissue, and carefully wiped her tears away. Alexandra was unusually intelligent for a four year old, no doubt Sherlock’s influence, but of course that didn't save their little girl from having the occasional nightmare.

“Alright, sweetie. It’s okay. Tell me what happened in the dream, yeah?” John asked. It must have been quite frightening for her to become so upset.

“There was a monster under the bed an’ he was tryin’ to eat me!” she exclaimed, with a dramatic wave of her arms. Then, with eyes wide, she looked up at John and asked: “Papa, is there _really_ a monster under there? Can you look an’ see?”

With a gentle smile, John placed her back on the bed and knelt on the floor. Making sure to keep a determined and serious expression on his face, John bent down to glance under the bed. Dust-bunnies? Check. Hairbands? Check. A long-lost single sock? Check. Monsters? Negative. He straightened up and out of the corner of his eye, noticed Sherlock quietly leaning against the door frame. Over the past few years, John had proven to be far more skilled in soothing little Alexandra when she was upset, so he knew Sherlock was perfectly content to just watch them until he was needed. “There is absolutely, positively no monster under your bed, love” he assured her, but she still looked unconvinced. Thinking quickly, his eyes flicked briefly to Sherlock and he came up with an idea. “Have I ever told you about Captain Redbeard?” he asked, settling back on their daughters bed.

Alexandra shook her head, but her anxiety was slowly giving way to her curiosity. Seeing her settle and focus, John went on. “Captain Redbeard is a fearless pirate with a magical ship! But his ship doesn't sail on the ocean! Oh, no! Captain Redbeard’s special ship sails through the air to visit children’s bedrooms.” John could hear Sherlock take in a breath, no doubt getting ready to interrupt having such nonsense instilled in the thoughts of their daughter. John silenced him with a glare and a subtle shake of his head. Turning back to Alexandra he continued: “Captain Redbeard has a very important job. Do you know what job that might be?”

Alexandra, now nearly calm and completely caught up in the story, shook her head. She scooted over to John, dragging her blankets with her and snuggling up against her papa. “What is it?” she asked, her words slightly muffled by blankets.

John smiled down at her and went on with his story: “Captain Redbeard’s job is to protect little children when they are sleeping. And, because he is such a brave and fearless pirate, he can protect you from monsters too! Every night, Captain Redbeard checks by all the bedrooms of all the little girls and boys, and every time he sees a monster in one of the bedrooms, he chases them away with his pirate ship! See, sweet pea? That’s why papa couldn't find any monster under your bed. Captain Redbeard had already been here and chased it away.” John reached down and ruffled her hair. “You don’t have to be afraid, love… there’s always someone looking out for you.”

Alexandra’s eyes were drooping again, but John stayed with their little girl for a few minutes longer, stroking her hair and listening as her breathing evened out. He looked up at Sherlock, still leaning in the doorway. His husband wore a slightly exasperated, but undeniably fond expression as he watched them, the two people he loved most in the world. When Alexandra was firmly asleep again, John slowly and carefully extricated himself. He settled her gently in the middle of her bed, kissed her forehead, and left her bedroom with silent footsteps. He quietly pulled her bedroom door nearly closed, leaving it slightly ajar - just in case.

After retreating to their own bedroom and climbing in to bed, Sherlock turned to face John, rolling his eyes. “Pirates and magical ships. Really, John?”

John could tell that his husband wasn't really upset, but he also knew how much Sherlock despised having his daughter grow up with fairy tales and fables. Father Christmas had been a point of debate (and many sulks had resulted from when John finally put his foot down) every Christmas. Sherlock wanted their daughter to have no illusions about the world she grew up in, and repeatedly insisted to not lie to her about things. John, on the other hand, was concerned about her becoming as emotionally constipated as her Dad.

John reached over and cupped Sherlock’s cheek with his hand, smoothing a thumb over his bottom lip. “Yes, really. It’s not like I've told her Leprechauns are real. It’ll be fine.” With a small smile, John leaned in and gave Sherlock a soft kiss.

“If she goes overboard with this, It’ll be entirely your fault.” Sherlock said, shifting closer to curl up against John’s side. “And don’t you even think about starting the whole ‘Easter Bunny’ thing. I’ll have Mycroft lock down all the shops this side of the Thames.”

John wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and settled in, planting a kiss into the mess of curls resting on his shoulder. “Sleep now… you git.”

“Mm.” Sherlock mumbled, nuzzling into John’s shoulder. He made a muffled sound that bared an awful resemblance to _ridiculous_.

John reached over to turn out the light, turned his face back to Sherlock and smiled. “Love you too.”


End file.
